Existence
by Taaroko
Summary: Futurefic. The second generation of Scoobies takes turns sharing their thoughts. The kids narrating and/or mentioned within are the result of Buffy/Angel, Willow/Oz, Xander/Renée, Gunn/Anne, and Connor/Dawn pairings. Reviews are happy things.
1. Kathy Winifred Gallagher

Disclaimer: The Buffyverse belongs to Joss Whedon. Not me. Which is why none of my second generation madness will _ever_ be canon. I think someone aught to point out to him exactly how awesome it would be to let that next generation happen; the potential would be limitless.

Feedback: Yes! Want!

* * *

Have you ever pondered your existence? I have. Whenever things get quiet, like in those moments before I fall asleep, it's all I can think about. Every person has thousands upon thousands of ancestors. They exist today because every single one of those thousands survived long enough to build the next generation. If one, just _one_ of them had made a fatal misstep anywhere before that crucial juncture, that person would never have existed. If they had met someone else, had different children, who knows what would that would have changed? Every individual you meet, then, is a statistical miracle. Despite overwhelming odds against them, in play eons before they were even born, here they are. And that's just the average person.

Me? Not so average. The thought frightens me far more than it makes me feel special, so don't think me pretentious. I've got those thousands of ancestors like anyone else, but the impossibilities didn't start piling up quite so high until my parents came along.

My mother has been in mortal peril almost nonstop since she was my age. She even died, not once, but twice, and managed to come back—or was dragged back. No matter what the world threw at her, she not only survived it, but she did so only after ensuring the survival of others. Do I seem impossible yet? That's not even the half of it.

My father, well, for starters, should have crumbled into dust in his grave over a hundred years before my mother was even born. Funny thing, though, about living in a world where the paranormal is all too normal; instead of living out the rest of his miserable life in the taverns of Galway, my father was killed. Killed to make way for the most sadistically cunning vampire the world would likely ever see. How many lives might have existed today if it hadn't been for that monster with my father's face? Surely they would be numberless. And that's not even considering the residual effects of the other demons he made.

Lucky me, my dreams tend to consist of little other than theatrical clips of his gruesome past. No, I don't sleep well most of the time. You might find it odd that after all those dreams, I can look into his face and not cringe or shy away. My father was not the cause of any of those things, and I have always seen the polar distinction between the good, noble man who loves my mother with all of his being, and is the most amazing dad Liam and I could ever have asked for—and the monster who gleefully destroyed any life he could touch. I'm glad I've only seen the demon in my nightmares, and that I can have the immeasurable comfort when I wake that he's gone forever.

But I've digressed. After a century and a half, my father's existence took yet another turn. His soul, the soul of that useless layabout from Ireland, was yanked back from wherever it had been, and chained to the demon that had taken his body lifetimes before. Even now, strong vestiges remain of the guilt that then crippled him; drove him to the rat-infested alleys for decades. Is it really a wonder that, if left alone for longer than a few moments, his brow furrows, head bows, and shoulders hunch under the horrible weight of it all? Hardly.

After almost another full century with nothing but that crushing weight for company, eating away at him like some monstrous psychological parasite, one of the demons working for our side showed him my mother. I ask him to tell me that story so often, I could probably repeat it, word-for-word, the way he tells it. She was the first beautiful beam of sunlight to shine on his world of darkness. Without even realizing it at first, she began to heal his wounds. She gave him a reason. Suddenly it seemed a reasonable price to pay to have borne his guilt for a century so he could be there to touch her life. He knew he wasn't good enough for her. He was the very thing she was chosen, of every other girl in the world, to destroy, after all. The mere idea of the two of them together was depressingly laughable. But she thought otherwise.

From the moment of their first actual meeting, even if we leave out what quickly developed between them, he began to affect her life, and the lives of those around her. I fingered the necklace I wore; the one I'd worn every day since they gave it to me—the one he gave her that day. It saved her, and she lived on to save others. Others who would carry on beside her—others who, after surviving countless more perils of their own, would eventually become the parents of my dearest friends: Daniel and Tara Osbourne, and Jesse Harris.

My parents weren't to have an easy time of it, though. If it was anything remotely resembling easy to begin with. The chains binding my father's soul to his body had a weak link, which my mother inadvertently broke. Once more, the demon was free, not to mention resentful and desperate to make up for his century of dormancy. After doing irreparable damage to those touching my mother's life, he was finally re-shackled to my father's soul. Too late, though, to spare him from what his demon had brought forth. Completing the cause of a long downward spiral for my mother, she sent him to hell to save the world. And there he may well have remained for eternity, but it was not so.

I haven't asked him to tell me what it was like there. Not that I have to. I have seen it, heard it, almost felt it many times over in my nightmares. I've never told him about any of those dreams. He doesn't need to feel guilty that I have to remember all of it too. Sometimes I think he knows anyway. It's not like I can help it if I wake up screaming, and he hears and comes running. No matter how many times it happens, he always comes running. He never asks what woke me up, he just holds me, and I feel safe again. Even at fifteen, I still feel like a little girl in his arms.

I've gone and digressed again. When he did return to this world, Fate had still not seen fit to smile down on them. As he was, they could never be together. They tried, but even love like theirs wasn't enough. It proved a good choice as far as the world was concerned, for had my father attempted to remain at her side then, he would never have been in Los Angeles to fight the evil there. In those five years of separation, they each found others with whom to share their hearts, but while she destroyed Hellmouths and he the demonic legions of Wolfram & Hart, they never forgot each other.

Finally their moment came. Even when he thought it no longer possible; someone else's reward, my father's mortal life resumed at last. My mother's burden was no longer so heavy to bear; the threat of Hellmouths quelled and two thousand others called to share her destiny meant that a life of her own might at long last be possible.

Everything fell into place after all; every last excruciating and intricate piece of the puzzle. So here I am: Kathy Winifred Gallagher.

* * *

Author's Notes: So, now that you've met my existential little wishful thinking creation here, I'll fill in a couple of blanks. Kathy was named after Angel's--or rather, Liam's--sister, who was murdered by Angelus. Her middle name is in honor of Fred. Her last name used to be "Angel", because I personally don't usually like inventing last names for canon characters like Angel, and it actually does work as a last name. Also, I'm a traditionalist, so Summers wouldn't work. But since then, I wrote the third episode of "Season 9", in which I caved and gave Angel the last name of "Gallagher", so there you are. Anyway, Kathy is pretty much a carbon copy of Buffy, except that her hair and eyes are exactly the same color as Angel's. Like with Tara and Daniel, I've done some drawings and photomanipulations of her on my deviant art page. About her nightmares. She's a Slayer like her mom, but since Angel is her father, I thought I'd shake things up and give her nightmares of his past instead of the standard issue prophetic/ancestral Slayer dreams. Oh, and in case it wasn't clear, Daniel and Tara are Willow and Oz's kids, and Jesse is Xander and Renée's son.


	2. Liam Wesley Gallagher

So, I found this thing sitting half-written on my hard drive, all sad and abandoned and dusty, and since the semester is over and I was bored (and my muse decided to cooperate better than when I first tried to write it), I thought I'd finish it. The first chapter was from Kathy's perspective; this one is from Liam's. Also, I've decided to just go with Gallagher as the surname of the Buffy/Angel household. If Joss ever deigns to reveal the surname of Liam (this time I'm referring to eighteenth century human Angel), I will promptly go through all of my fics and change it. Unless, you know, he picks Gallagher too. Which would be really nifty. And disconcerting. But mostly nifty.

* * *

My mom is the Slayer. Not just _a_ Slayer. _The_ Slayer. She's been saving the world since she was fifteen; back when there was only one Slayer at a time. The one before her was dead, so there wasn't anyone who could show her how to do it who really _knew_ because they'd lived it, but she learned anyway. She had her Watcher, and he was enough. He still means so much to her that he's sorta the dad her real father wasn't for a lot of the time. Things were hard. Even though Mom had Grandma Joyce, her sister, friends, Watcher, and my dad, it was never easy back then. One girl shouldn't have to bear that burden by herself. It was so hard that she even died a couple of times, but that wasn't enough to stop her. And she isn't the only one anymore. There were two Slayers for a while, and then there were two thousand. She still fights, and she teaches the younger ones to fight too.

My dad used to be a vampire. Sometimes, when we're supposed to be asleep, I sneak into Kathy's room, and she tells me scary stories about the Scourge of Europe. Mom and Dad have told us some stories about what Dad used to be, too, but they were different ones. I don't know how Kathy knows the ones she tells me, or if she's just making them up to scare me. I'll have to ask Dad about them sometime. He's always the bad guy in Kathy's stories, and that's just weird. I like the ones Mom and Dad tell better. They're about fighting demons and saving the world, and our family is the happy ending. Dad is so brave and strong, like Mom. He says all he ever wanted was to be able to grow old with her while he watched Kathy and me grow up. I can't figure out why he likes something so normal better than living through all of those epic stories. I'd love to go on adventures like that. They'd be way more fun than school.

Aunt Dawn is the Key. One time, her power almost destroyed the universe. Another time, it was probably what saved it—or, at least, _this_ world, anyway. She and Mom fight sometimes, but if anything messes with one of them, it has to answer to the other, and that's never pretty. Sometimes they tell me the same stories, but their versions are a little different.

Uncle Connor—well, he's not exactly my uncle, but it's less confusing to call him that…wow, my family is weird—has a past as exciting as them. Well, _one_ of his pasts, anyway—and that still hurts my head to think about. He's got super strength and speed and senses and the first time he grew up, it was in a place that he says is scarier than I could ever imagine, but that most of the things there were scared of him.

Kathy is a Slayer, like Mom. She hasn't been one for very long, and she probably won't have to do anything as huge as what Mom had to do at her age since there are so many other Slayers now, but she still gets to share that with her. And she and Dad are really close, too. She can draw almost as well as him, and she does that thing where she just sits and frowns at the floor and doesn't notice anything else happening in the room, just like Dad does a lot. Mom calls it "brooding" when they do that. I think Kathy's really cool, but to her, I'm just the annoying kid brother. I guess I kinda deserve that, though, because I do bug her sometimes. She makes really funny noises when she's annoyed.

Mom and Dad's friends are all pretty cool, too. Mr. Osbourne is a werewolf, and he can play the guitar, and his hair is always a different color every time I see him. Mrs. Osbourne is the best witch in the world, probably, and she makes really good cookies. She's the one who made it so there would be lots of Slayers, and Mom told me that one time, she almost destroyed the world. I've tried to picture that, but it's just as hard as trying to picture Dad as an evil vampire. Mr. Gunn—he told me just to call him "Gunn", but I keep forgetting—has all these awesome scars that make him look really hardcore. He got most of them in the big battle that happened right before Dad became human again. Mrs. Gunn is really nice, and she takes care of a bunch of kids who are lost or by themselves. She told me that she used to be one of them, but that was before she met my mom and Mr. Gunn. Mr. Harris is really funny, and he's got a cool eyepatch. He and Dad don't like each other very much, but I can't figure out why. They both care about the same people, and they've fought together a lot. I can tell that they think it's a little weird that I'm such good friends with Anya, even though they don't like each other. It's like they think not liking each other is supposed to be genetic, or something, but Anya's awesome, so I don't care. Mrs. Harris has a cool scar on her face and a totally wicked accent, and she's a Slayer like Mom and Kathy. And then there are all of the other Watchers and Slayers they work with, and they're pretty awesome too.

It's the same with Kathy's friends, even if they haven't had very many adventures yet. Daniel and Tara are werewolves like their dad, and they're both really fun. They never act like I'm annoying them like Kathy does, and they let me hang out with them sometimes. Daniel even let me try playing his guitar once, but it sounded really bad. I think I like Jesse—Anya's big brother—best, though. He's just normal, like me, but he's still funny and cool.

With friends and family who've saved the world and have superpowers or cool stories…what do I mean to them? What _can_ I mean? I'm just a ten-year-old boy who's had the word "apocalypse" in his vocabulary since he was four. No powers. No destiny. I don't even make the best grades in my class or play the best in sports, and the only fight I ever got in I lost. I'm just a kid. The runt Mom had after she got hurt and wasn't supposed to be able to have kids anymore. She and Dad both tell me all the time that I'm a gift; their beautiful, perfect little boy, but what's interesting about me? They told me that they named me Liam so that I could use the name better than Dad did when it was his, but what can I do? My middle name is Wesley, and Dad told me that the Wesley who had the name before me was one of the bravest men he ever knew, and a good friend. I don't feel brave, like the other Wesley was, though. I bet he wasn't afraid of the dark. I bet he didn't think he wasn't good enough.

I don't want to disappoint them, but what if I can't be what they want me to be? I try, and I'm going to keep trying no matter what, even if it's never enough. They already tell me all the time that they're proud of me, just as often as they say it to Kathy, so maybe I _am_ enough. Maybe Liam Wesley Gallagher is all I have to be.

* * *

Okay, Liam is one of those characters I wish was real just so I could hug him. I suppose I'll just have to improvise by hugging my little brother when I get home this evening. He's the one whose personality I based Liam's off of, anyway, so that should be close enough. Anyway. On with the relevant stuff. Liam would definitely feel overshadowed by his insanely awesome family. And his perception of all of them is just cute.

Reviews? *drags Liam back over to bribe you with heart-meltingly adorable smiles*


	3. Tara Jennifer and Daniel Rupert Osbourne

These two are quickly becoming my favorite imagination figment people. Unfortunately, they're only my imagination figment people, not Joss's. *sigh*

* * *

Sometimes it's weird being named after someone who died. My best friends, Kathy and Jesse, are too. I think it's sweet that our parents all wanted to honor the friends they lost. Still, it's just…weird sometimes. Like I'm supposed to be _that_ Tara, or _that _Jennifer. I probably am a little bit like Jenny Calendar was, though. Mom and Giles told me that she liked computers and magic, and I'm definitely on board with both—even if I'm still having some trouble in the magic department, but from everything Mom tells me about _that_ Tara, I'm not much like her. She was shy and quiet and could sing like an angel. My brother is quiet—or, according to him, _pensive_—, but I'm not. I got the babbling gene from Mom. And I can't sing to save my life. I love the piano, though. Mom started teaching me when I was five, and I haven't gone more than a couple of days without playing since. I've never really liked playing the songs from the sheet music. Those are someone else's music. I just let whatever I'm feeling flow through my fingers and into the keys. That's kinda how it feels when I transform. Being a wolf is always an incredibly liberating experience. Plus, there aren't many things that are more fun than chasing Kathy's cats. Daniel does that too, but he's not as good as me at avoiding their retaliation. He had scratch marks all over his face for a couple of days after the last full moon. Mom could've magically healed the scratches, but she said it served him right for traumatizing a couple of innocent cats. He argued that cats that are innocent run up trees; they don't turn faces into tic-tac-toe boards. I thought he had a point, and I think Mom thought so too, but he still had to wait for the scratches to heal on their own.

We really do have way too much fun chasing those cats. Also, you're babbling.

Daniel! This is my internal monologue! Babbling is the _point_. And what are you even doing here?

What? We're inseparable anyway, so it's only fitting that we double-act this, too.

I thought it was only _identical_ twins who were supposed to do this kind of thing.

Apparently not. So, what's going on?

I was in the middle of doing a psychological profile type thing on myself.

Oh. Cool. Uh, my turn?

Sure. I've gotta un-derail my train of thought now, anyway.

Got it. Okay, so…namesakes, piano, transforming, cats. Huh. Well, I guess I get what she means about being named after people, even though both of the ones I was named after haven't died yet. Not that it's not still weird sometimes, but at least Dad and Giles always go by Oz and, well, Giles, though, or being in the same room with both of them might involve a lot more confusion. I'm definitely cool with being named after Dad, since…he's cool.

Plus, it's pretty obvious that you're a lot like him.

I was getting to that. I'm not quite as good as he is at playing the guitar yet, but I'm trying to get there, and I can't do that thing you both do where you transform without the full moon.

…

Stop grinning like that. I'm gonna get it down one of these days.

Of course! Why wouldn't you?

I don't think I want to share internal monologues with you anymore.

Remember how this used to be _my_ internal monologue, and _you're_ the one who gatecrashed?

Yeah, this is pretty much as heated as the sibling rivalry ever gets here, by the way.

Hehehe, Kathy and Liam's parents are so jealous.

…

They're doing it again!

They? Doing what? Confused.

Every time I mention Kathy when you're around, your ears turn red. Just like they do whenever we go to her house or she comes to ours or we see her at school. So they're pretty much always red.

What? No they're not.

A_hem_. I believe that, of the two of us, mister, _I _am the one who can see your ears. And they're red. A lot. Because of Kathy.

Oh, come on, if this really is _your_ internal monologue, isn't it supposed to be _your_ secrets that get exposed to view and possible ridicule? Mine are off-limits.

So there _is_ a secret involved here?

…

That's what I thought! You're in love with our best friend!

…

What, you think I'm going to mess with you about it? 'Cause I'm not. I mean, It's not like you two wouldn't make a great couple.

See, what you're doing now is actually worse than if you made fun of me.

What? How is it worse? That makes no sense.

Right. And you're not going to be doing everything you can think of from now on to try and convince me to ask her out.

…

See? Worse.

Well, she'd totally say yes if you did. I mean, you did inherit Dad's coolness, and it's not like she has a boyfriend or even any serious crushes at the moment.

Tara. You're doing it already.

Sorry.

And you don't get to tell her. _Ever_.

Aw, come on! I tell her everything! And so do you, by the way.

Except this.

Party pooper.

…She really doesn't have any crushes right now? No. No. New topic now. We'll go back to the werewolf thing—unless you think we should talk about magic instead?

Werewolf thing. But don't think I'm just gonna let the fact that you have a crush on Kathy drop, you know, ever.

Great. Okay. So, yeah, every full moon, three-quarters of our family gets a lot more furry than usual. And with tails. That's definitely the highlight.

Overall, pretty much why we never bothered to get a pet dog.

Yeah, it sorta makes that redundant. Although I did try dog food one time—

_EW_.

My reaction exactly.

Hey, have you ever, like, caught a rabbit or something in wolf mode?

They taste much better than dog food.

Hah! You should definitely tell that to that girl who keeps trying to recruit us into PETA.

I dunno. We already got her face to turn that nifty reddish-purple color just from telling her that we thought the acronym really stood for "People Eating Tasty Animals".

Yeah, but my goal is to get it all the way to blue. Too bad we can't just tell her we're werewolves.

We could say we're starting a carnivores club.

Ooh, that has potential for blue face causing.

Lycanthropy and veganism really don't go together.

Nope.

We're getting off-topic now, aren't we?

Kinda. You were gonna talk about magic next.

Oh, yeah. Okay, so, Mom's pretty much the ultimate überwitch, and we figured that if we inherited the werewolf gene from Dad, we'd get some of her magical proficiency too.

…It turns out that that was very presumptuous of us.

Yeah, a little. The only major spell we've actually managed to pull off so far got us grounded for two months.

We _did_ pull it off, though! And it was _awesome_, despite getting slightly different results than we expected. But…yeah. It remains sad and lonely in our successful attempts column.

We're getting better, though.

You think so?

Definitely. I mean, we won't be teleporting or healing anytime soon, but it took Mom years and a brief detour into ultimate evil to get to that point, so I'm not worried.

And we'll be skipping the ultimate evil step.

Yeah. I think I'll be limiting my rebellious phase to playing grunge metal. You know, the kind that makes tasteful people's ears bleed?

That seems reasonable. I was thinking of stealing Dad's hair dye and black nail polish and trying out the punk look for a while.

You know, it only counts as rebellious if it's not something your parents do.

Oh. Good point. Do you ever get the impression that we're a little _overly_ well-adjusted?

Nah.

Hmm. Well, then, I guess I could consider cutting classes and insist on eating desserts _before_ meals instead of after.

Edgy.

The edge is where I live, brother.

…

What?

Never do that impression again. Ever.

People who hijack other people's internal monologues don't get to tell them which impressions not to do. Brother.

…

Yeah, okay, I'll stop.

…

…

Uh. Think that's everything?

I guess.

Cool.

Tara Jennifer Osbourne and Daniel Rupert Osbourne, signing off.

* * *

Why? Because first person with two narrators is FUN. It's almost in the same category as fourth wall breakage. Bwahaha. And if you think about it, lycanthropy and veganism really _don't_ go together. Also, the final line was both of them in unison.

See the button below? You want to press it and leave a review.

Yeah, we'd really appreciate it.

Go away, this is _my_ author commentary.

Wow, so polite. I'm very flattered.

Shut up.


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